Somewhere Only We Know
by singyoutosleep
Summary: Santana and Rachel had the perfect life. They made all kinds of plans for the future, but the thing is that plans don't always work out the way you want them to. Pezberry angst. Deals with strong subject matter. Rating will bump up in later chapters.
1. Somewhere Only We Know

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Glee nor do I own the canon characters in this story. Small details of Santana's dad and Rachel's dads are canon, but the interpretations are mostly my own, and Santana's sister is an original character.

**Author's note: **This is a multi-chapter Pezberry angst fic. It will deal with strong subject matter, such as car accidents, please be advised. R&R. Rating will likely go up in later chapters.

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Rachel Berry was beginning to get frustrated with her girlfriend. She and Santana had been discussing plans for their two month anniversary and they were _just_ getting to the good part when Santana had stopped replying. Rachel typed out her text with a smirk, "Did I kill you with the thought of letting you get to second base?"

Rachel was perfectly content just maintaining their relationship as it was – some kissing and the occasional over-the clothes groping. After all, they had _just_ started dating after years of being best friends, and they were still freshmen in high school. While Santana was sexually curious and wanted to start doing more, the brunette diva was still afraid. After all, they hadn't even come out at school yet, they went on dates in quiet, out of the way places. Which, since Rachel was a newly converted vegan, wasn't all that difficult, since the vegan restaurants in town weren't all that well-frequented.

After waiting a whole five minutes for Santana's reply, Rachel sighed and furrowed her brows together. "Santana Ines Lopez, if you do not reply to my text message this instant I promise you that even kissing will be off the table. You do not ignore someone when they are asking you whether you would prefer white candles because they match better with the sheets or red candles because they match better with the rose petals!"

When ten minutes passed and she still had no reply, Rachel sighed and set down her phone, hopping in the shower quickly. She smelled of pool chlorine still from their dip in her pool earlier on in the day, before Santana's older sister came to pick her up and take her back home. Chlorine was the most awful smell and if she didn't wash it off, it was going to start seeping onto her bed sheets and how was she supposed to sleep if her sheets smelled of chlorine? She went through the motions, singing her usual songs (_Don't Rain on my Parade_ for her hair and either _Taking Chances_ or _What a Girl Wants_ while she was soaping herself up and shaving. It was just how she rolled.)

Humming a random tune as she came back into her room about twenty minutes later, Rachel picked up her hairbrush and combed through her hair, wincing as she encountered a knot. Letting her eyes fall to a picture of herself and Santana taken the week before, Rachel smiled to herself. She hadn't said the words out loud yet, but she was pretty sure that she loved Santana Lopez. She had always loved Santana. Ever since the first grade, the Latina had been the most important person in her life. Rachel was eating some animal crackers, and Dave Karofsky had stolen them and stepped on them, just to be mean. Santana had apparently seen and went up to Karofsky and punched him in the face. Since that day, the girls had been inseparable, and their friendship had now reached a new level. No one would ever compare to Santana Lopez in her eyes.

Though she might have only been fourteen years old, she was still certain of the fact that she would never love someone the way that she loved the other girl. She knew Santana better than she knew herself, and they had their lives worked out, right down to the apartment they would have together in New York. A quaint studio in the Soho district. Santana was going to do the decorating, and she had decided that she wanted an open-plan apartment where they could put one of those beds that had no box spring and have it be next to their simple white couch that contrasted their dark mahogany cabinets perfectly. In the mornings, they would sit in bed drinking their coffee and talking about the paper, wrapped up in nothing but each other. They had their lives all planned out and in her heart, Rachel knew that it would happen. It was somewhat of a fantasy of hers to be standing in a long white button-down shirt, looking out at the New York cityscape with a mug of coffee in the early morning and have Santana wrap her arm around her waist, push her hair aside with her free hand and kiss her neck. She was sure that when that happened, that would be the kind of things that dreams were made of.

It was strange, how even the simplest of pictures of them could evoke all those thoughts in her. When she looked into Santana's gorgeous and mysterious eyes, she saw all the things she was sure a person was supposed to see when they looked into the eyes of the person that they were going to spend forever with; companionship, kindness, compassion, love, and most importantly, _safety_. When Rachel was around Santana, she felt safe. She felt protected. Yes, she definitely loved Santana Lopez, and she was going to tell her during their two month anniversary celebrations. Sighing happily, Rachel tied up her hair into a neat bun, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She would have all of that soon. Not soon enough, but soon.

It was then that the noise of a familiar ringtone flooded her room. Smiling to herself, Rachel got up from her vanity and picked up her phone on her nightstand. Keane's _Somewhere Only We Know_ wasn't a song that Rachel would usually listen to, but Santana insisted that it was her favorite song, and so Rachel had paid the two dollars to get the animated ringtone so Santana's favorite song would be her ringtone. "Called to apologize, have we?" Rachel giggled, crossing her legs as she sat down her bed. "I forgive you, however, in the future, ignoring me in such a hein-"

"Rachel?" the voice on the phone was sniffly and it _definitely_ didn't belong to Santana, but Rachel still knew whose voice it was.

"Mrs. Lopez?" the brunette inquired. Had Santana gotten in trouble and gotten her phone confiscated? Oh Lord, what if she had read the text messages?

"Rachel, you need to come to the hospital."

"W-what?" Rachel asked, her eyes widening as she felt her heart stop.

"It's Santana. She got into an accident on the way home. She's in bad shape. I thought you would like to know," Mrs. Lopez replied, her voice cracking.

"Oh my God. Oh my God. Is she – is she dying?" Rachel asked, her voice quivering as her eyes welled up with tears.

"I don't know, Rachel," came the shaky reply on the phone.

"I'm coming. You tell her she can't die yet. You tell her that if she's going to go, she doesn't get to go until I say goodbye," Rachel yelled, before tossing her phone aside in a frenzy, bolting down the stairs.

"Dad! Daddy! Get in the car," Rachel wailed, making a break for the door as her father came out of his study.

"Rachel, honey, what's going on? Why are you going out the door in your bathrobe? Why are you crying?" he inquired, confused.

"It's Santana. She – she was in an accident. They don't know if she's going to make it," Rachel sobbed.

"I'm getting my keys," her father replied, hurrying back into his study and emerging a second later with his briefcase and his keys. "Let's go," he nodded, leading the way out to the car.

The drive was a blur for Rachel. Santana couldn't die. She didn't understand. She had _just_ been talking to her. She had just seen her. She'd just been swimming in her pool, laughing with her. Now she might be dying. Now she might be dead. Every second that passed seemed like a lifetime, even if they lived only ten minutes from the hospital. Luckily, her father didn't seem to understand the concept of speed limits, so they made it their quickly.

Her father barely had a chance to stop the car at the entrance to the emergency room before she was opening her door and dashing into the hospital like a madwoman. "Santana!" she yelled, not caring that she was making a scene. She just needed to find Santana and make sure that she wasn't too late.

"Rachel!" Mrs. Lopez's voice rang out from behind her. Rachel ran to the woman, who wrapped her arms tightly around her. "She's gone into surgery. She has some internal bleeding that the doctors are trying to stop."

"But they can stop it, right? She's gonna be okay?" Rachel inquired, looking up at Mrs. Lopez, desperate for some good news.

"We don't know, Rachel. We don't know," Mrs. Lopez sobbed, pulling her against her chest. Her father arrived a few seconds later from parking the car and he joined in. They were all intertwined. They were all family. When something happened to one of them, it happened to all of them. They were all in this together, no matter what. They all just really needed Santana to wake up. That was all that mattered – that she would eventually wake up.


	2. Spring Awakening

**Author's note: **Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far. Please keep doing it.

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Everything hurts. Absolutely everything. She feels stiff and sore and she has one of those headaches where it feels like she's slept for too long. Wait… she doesn't even remember going to sleep. That's _odd_. Her eyes feel heavy though, like they've been sewn shut and prying them open would be too painful and it would hurt too much. Her parents are talking quietly next to her, she can hear them whispering, but it sounds like a gunshot for some reason. It's like all her senses are on high alert, and not in a good way. Like a drug trip gone very wrong kind of way. "Nnng," she mumbles, and she realizes that her throat feels really dry. As if she's been screaming or as if she hasn't drank anything for a really long time. And the air feels funny. It tastes weird. Which is odd, because you can't usually taste air, but she tastes the distinct taste of plastic. Shifting uncomfortably, she feels like she's on a mattress, but it's not hers. She's probably in a cheap motel passed out somewhere. But wait – why would her parents be at a motel? Oh God, she didn't like drunk dial them or something, did she?

That's when she makes the decision that it's time to open her eyes, too see what the hell is going on.

And what the fuck, she's in a hospital. That makes no sense. She tries to sit up, but her arms feel like they're weighed down by lead and she can't. She groans, frustrated, and that's when her parents notice that she's awake. "Oh my God, you're awake," her mother says, instantly tearing up as she gets up to clutch her hand. Her father puts down the sports section of the paper and stands up as well, he rests his hand on her leg. "Get the doctor," her mother instructs, and her father nods and dashes out of the room.

Typical. The Lopez women are always the head bitches in charge.

"What – what happened?" she croaks, making another attempt to sit up. Her voice sounds so tired and so hoarse. She doesn't sound like herself. Well… it's probably because she doesn't know what's happening.

"No, no, stay lying down, sweetie," her mother begs, stroking her hair gently. "You were in an accident. You were coming home from Rachel's house and you were-"

"Rachel?" she questions, furrowing her brows. Her head feels like it's in a fog, sure, but the name doesn't ring a bell to her. At all. "Who's Rachel?"

"Rachel Berry, your best friend?" her mother replies, arching an eyebrow at her daughter.

"I don't know any Rachel Berry," she replies. Her mother is about to say something to her, but she's cut off by a stream of doctors coming into the room, her father in toe. "Whoa," Santana breathes. This looks like something out of that medical show she likes to watch. She can't remember the name of it right now, for some reason, but she's got more important things to worry about anyways. Like the reason she's in a fucking hospital bed. She knows that she was in an accident but she still wants details.

The doctors ask her a bunch of questions and tell her that she needs to go for a head scan. Honestly, she's feeling kind of livid at this point, she just doesn't have the energy to protest, so she lets her bed be wheeled out of her room. It's kind of like being chauffeured, which is cool, she guesses.

On her way to the elevator, she sees a girl in knee socks running down the hall like a fucking madwoman. She's dressed in the most _hideous_ outfit that Santana has ever seen in her life. Is that a fucking pantsuit? It is, oh God. Santana laughs. Who's dressing that girl up anyways, her grandmother? It hurts to laugh, she realizes, and clutches onto her ribs. _Bitch_. If she ever saw her again, she was going to make her pay, that's for sure.

She pushes the thought out of her head quickly and turns her attention back to the orderly who's trying to make conversation with her. "You gave everyone quite a scare," the orderly informed her. Squinting to read his nametag, she saw that his name was Jack.

"What happened? My mom told me that I was in an accident, but I don't really know what happened aside from that because the doctors started talking to me in all of that college doctor crap," she mumbled, shaking her head.

"You were hit by a drunk driver. You were on your way home from a friend's house with your older sister – she's fine, by the way, just a few scratches and bruises, and the driver smashed into your car after running a red light. You've been in a coma for three weeks."

"Three weeks? Oh my God, I missed spring formal!" she whined. Dances weren't really her thing, but she had the most _smoking_ dress picked out. She was probably going to go stalking the hot guys or something and make out with one of them. She didn't exactly remember what her plans were, but she knew that formal had been the weekend upcoming, and if she'd been in a coma for three weeks, then she definitely had missed it. _Damn it_.

"You just woke up from a coma and your first worry is that you missed a dance? I don't think you're going to be dancing any time soon, anyways, hun," Jack informed her, which was when the weighty feeling on Santana's leg wasn't just the trippy medications she was probably on, it was a cast.

"It's broken?" she inquired, which was rather dumb, considering that her leg probably wouldn't be in a cast for any other reason. But her mind was still racing. She was tired, honestly, but she had a lot of questions.

"Yeah. You were lucky, honestly. You suffered a pretty bad concussion, but aside from that, all you ended up with was that broken leg. You should be okay in a couple of months, but until then, it's going to be a pain."

"Mother fucker," Santana growled. She had recently picked up swearing as a habit, and it had become her new favorite way of expressing herself. Settling herself as best as she could in the uncomfortable hospital bed, Santana sighed as they reached the radiology department. Santana had had to have one of these scans before as a kid, when she had hit her head after tripping at the public pool and hitting her head on the cement. _That_ had hurt like a bitch, and it was mortifying. But at least she knew what it felt like. It wouldn't be scary, but the noise was probably going to be deafening, considering that everything was still so sensitive. The dull beeping of her IV pump was beginning to get to her. It was really the most annoying noise she had ever encountered.

Laying back as the technicians got her ready, Santana sighed and processed everything that Jack had told her. She'd been in an accident. She'd been in a coma for three weeks of her life. Those were three weeks she would never get back. Oh no, what if she had missed cheerleading tryouts for the McKinley High Cheerios? She remembered seeing the sign up sheet on the door of the science lab and she'd decided that she was going to sign up and try out. Now, she would have to miss priority auditions and she'd have to go through the hellish process of auditioning with everyone else. Damn it, that Quinn Fabray girl was probably going to be in and she was going to be sporting that smug smile that she always wore when she got whatever she wanted.

Closing her eyes, Santana nodded as the technician gave her some instructions. She was still so sleepy, but a part of her was afraid that if she slept again, she would never wake up again. However, the battle with her eyelids was a losing one, and soon she was dozing off again, the real world the farthest thing from her mind. It was probably better since the CT machine made a lot of noise, and it would have been hard to handle, given that her senses still seemed to be hyper aware.

When she was transported back to her room about an hour later, she was still sound asleep, shifting around uncomfortably. It was only when she felt a set of hands clasp around one of hers that she was pulled back out of her slumber. "Mom?" she inquired, wincing slightly.

"No, not Mom," someone said. It was a female voice, but it was so unfamiliar. Honestly, she didn't remember hearing it. Whoever it was was sniffling. Opening her eyes, Santana gasped and pulled her hand away. It was that pantsuit wearing _dwarf _she'd seen earlier.

"Ew, what the hell are you doing in my room, Disco Hobbit?" Santana wondered, making a face at the other girl. Honestly, now that she was closer, under the pantsuit was a t-shirt that Santana knew hadn't been cool since the 80s. Seriously, what era was this girl from?

"Santana Lopez, while I'm grateful that your sense of humor has returned, it's quite cruel to say hello to your gi-"

"My sense of humor is fully intact, thank you. Your pantsuit is really hilarious in a sort of sad smurf impression kind of way. I'm serious, who are you, and why are you in my room? If you're one of those candy stripper people, what the hell are you doing in that awful outfit?" Santana wondered, shaking her head slightly.

"Santana. It's me. Rachel," Rachel replied, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Wait, you're Rachel Berry? As in, the girl my mom said was my best friend?" Santana scoffed, arching an eyebrow. Her mother had totally lost her mind. "Clearly all the pot my mom did in the 70s is starting to catch up with her, because there's no way that I would ever be best friends with a dwarf that was rejected on the assembly line."

"Santana, why are you being like this? I don't understand…" Rachel sobbed, looking completely confused.

"Get out of my room," Santana warned, clenching her jaw, despite the pain that it caused to her head.

"What? Why? Santana... this, this isn't funny," Rachel informed her, wiping at her eyes.

"I said _get. out._," the Latina snarled, thankful that her mother walked into the room. "Mom, get this hobbit out of my room."

"But San-"

"Get her _out_," Santana repeated. She wanted to yell, she wanted to scream, but she didn't have the voice to do it.

"Rachel, you should leave," her mother nodded.

"But why? I don't understand she said she didn't know me and-"

"I will call you and explain later, Rachel. Please leave."

Santana smirked as the other girl picked up her things and walked out, looking sadder than Santana had ever remembered seeing anyone. It didn't make sense. Why was everyone saying she knew this girl? Santana had no memory of her at all. All she knew was that she would never, in her right mind, have spoken to a girl who dressed as hideously as that, there was no way that they would have been friends. The girl had probably told her mom that they were friends, hoping that she'd be grateful to have a friend if she woke up and wouldn't care what she looked like. Well, this Rachel girl was wrong. What a fucking _opportunist_. Santana Lopez wasn't friends with losers. That was just not how she worked.


End file.
